Hello, I'm Still Here
by Corrinth
Summary: Unchanged from previous posting. Xavier's daughter looks back on her life. Inspired by "Hello" by Evanescence.


Disclaimer : I own none of the X-Men save for Ilehana Xavier (Vixen)

A/N:Another insight into the mind of my O.C Ilehana inspired by "Hello" by Evanescence. This piece is dedicated to the teams at Argos in Wilmslow and Wythenshawe for being great mates!

**Hello, I'm Still Here**

Somewhere in the distance a church bell punctuated the silence of the early morning, its single tone calling insistently to those of the Christian faith, calling them to church, to worship. Back at the mansion, Nightcrawler would be rising to enter the chapel to say his prayers, perhaps Storm would join him just for the comfort of hearing the little blue elf confess his faith. Charles Xavier would hear the bell, raise his head a little and gaze off into the distance, assessing his own faith and feelings. Logan would grunt in his sleep and turn over, irritated by the interruption of his dreams. Most of the children would ignore the sound, they would continue their sleeping, games or feasting, one or two might frown over textbooks, trying to finish a piece of homework. Normally, Ilehana might simply be lying in bed with Logan, or sitting talking to her father, or in wolf-form, galloping across the grounds. Today though, she glanced up from the simple white rose in her hands to the gathering rain clouds. It had been raining that day……… so many years ago.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Soaked to the skin and chilled to the marrow, her body as frozen as her mind and soul, but she dared not disturb her father from his grieving, from the tears he thought she could not see. In her heart she was crying too, but something on the outside would not let her. Stubbornly, the five year olds eyes remained dry as she sighed, the lightest breath of wind amidst the gale that blew cold, biting at her damp skin and sodden clothes. Inside she was crying out, longing for him to turn and take her in his arms, to hold her, but her father's attention clung intractably to the grave in front of them. Safe in the knowledge that his mind was elsewhere, Ilehana yelled in her own head that there was someone here left alive, left breathing, left so very, very alone. But all she could do was lay a tentative hand on the handle of his wheelchair as a reminder that though his wife was no longer at his side, a part of her remained. But if Charles Xavier noticed his daughter, he gave no sign of it.

Days passed in a kind of dream, days in which she tried time and again to gain his attention. But whenever the Professor scraped together the courage to look her in the eye, all she sensed was his lingering sadness and a trace of an ice-cold hardness that could only be defined as resentment. Even now that she was grown, an adult full of knowledge and a wisdom beyond her years and often her understanding, Ilehana could lie in that floating, semi-awake state and believe that the last years had been a dream, that she would awaken to find her parents in their room down the hall, together and very much alive.

Always fresh in her memory when she thought about those times was the woman drafted in by her father, a counsellor, a pretty woman that was as thick as two short planks and worse - it had taken Ilehana three sessions to explain the make-up of a protein, and even then, thanks to her blossoming telepathy, the child knew she still didn't understand. Even then, Ilehana had known that it was a diversion, a means for her father to remove from his sight and company, the most painful memory of his wife. The child worried about her father, his face was white and gaunt, his body thin and wasting. But she submitted to the counselling to keep him if not happy, then at peace, all the while screaming that she didn't need fixing because she wasn't broken.

It had seemed, at the time, that all their friends were more concerned about her own welfare than his, maybe because she was a child. Her Godfather, Eric, used to enter the house and sweep her into his arms. Hank McCoy would look at her with such pity that she would dutifully downcast and submit to his comforting. And all the while her father sunk deeper inside himself, deeper into a hollow despair that seemed to go unnoticed by all save herself. She felt like a decoy, a charade, even a lie, living on for him so that he could hide away behind great walls - barriers that no living being could break.

Perhaps she would never know what had brought him out of it. Perhaps it was the day of the inquest, when it had been revealed that a boy killed in the same freak accident as her mother was a young mutant unable to control his powers, perhaps it was just a sudden realisation that life had to go on……… whatever had made Charles Xavier stop dreaming had made him begin his school for 'Gifted Youngsters', for mutants. All Ilehana knew was that her purpose in life was to go on living, even if it was only as a reminder to her father of a love that had once been.

"Hello I'm still here, all that's left of yesterday"


End file.
